The Fallen
by DJ Quicksilver
Summary: Post DH AU. HP/UT twist. 10 years after the disappearance of Harry Potter, the remnants of the Death Eaters have gathered under Bellatrix Lestrange's banner. To counter this new threat, some new help has been hired... from the outside... HONKS
1. Nightmares

_**BLANKET DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and her affiliates, and Unreal Tournament belongs to Midway and Epic Games. The ONLY characters that I take claim for are the ones that I deem OC's, the rest belong to their respective trademarks.**_

_Author's Notes – Yes, yes, I'm back! Finally, after much anticipation and waiting, I'm back under a new name and ready to take on the world! After much revising and re-reading, I finally got a basic storyline down that looks OK, it's still in the planning process so go easy on it please. I've been away from writing fanfics for almost 2 years now, I'm hoping that this will lay the foundations to a great story. Reviews are much appreciated._

_I'm currently looking for a Beta reader for my stories. If you're interested, please hit me up at _

_Ships are Harry/Tonks and Neville/Hermione, this AU takes place 10 years after the end of DH, but excludes the Epilogue. In this universe, a whole lot more people died in the Battle of Hogwarts, so please keep that in mind. And now, I present to you..._

The Fallen

By: DJ Quicksilver

Chapter 1: Nightmares

It was a stormy evening in Number 12, Grimmauld Place. It was a warm September day, about 3 and a half months after the 10th Year Anniversary of the Dark Lord's death, and at 2am most everyone was asleep. That is, until...

"REMUS!"

... that is, until our resident metamorphmagus shot awake from her latest nightmare. She sat up and moved over to the edge of the bed, panting, and wiped the sweat off her forehead before leaning forward, trying to shake off the after-effects of her nightmarish visions. Knowing that sleep would evade her for the rest of the night, she slipped into a nightie and went downstairs to the living room, where she conjured up a fire, sat down on the couch in front, and leaned towards it in search of warmth and comfort. Staring into the orange-read glow of the flames as they burned, she sat back, and reflected.

Nymphadora Tonks was the last of the Tonks' and the Lupins', her husband, son, mother, and father having been killed during the Battle of Hogwarts 10 years ago. It was a brutal battle, and it had taken its toll. Many died that night, and she was not the only one that suffered, of that she was sure. Neville Longbottom had lost his girlfriend, Hannah Abbot due to a stray killing curse. Hermione Granger had lost her best friend/boyfriend, Ron Weasley to a bone shattering curse to the head. Draco Malfoy had lost his mother, Narcissa the previous night to an enraged Voldemort taking out his frustrations. In her opinion, however, none suffered more than the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. Not only had he lost his best friend through the death of Ron, but he had lost his heart with the death of Ron's sister, Ginny Weasley. Having sacrificed herself to keep Bellatrix Lestrange's Killing Curse from hitting Harry during his stand-off with Voldemort, she alone ensured that Harry would have the time he needed to disarm the Dark Lord, repelling his Avada Kedavra curse back at him, ending his reign permanently, but allowing Bella to escape.

Harry Potter. The name alone brought with it more pain than happy memories at the time. She had first met the boy the summer before his fifth year. Her first impression of him was 'scrawny'. That changed quickly to 'abused orphan', to "Mission Objective", and finally, a little over 2 years later, to 'Just Plain Harry'. During what she dubbed her "Year of Bliss" she had come to know Harry as more than just a job for the old Order of the Phoenix, but rather a charismatic yet slightly depressed/brooding 17 year old with the weight of the world on his shoulders. She could still remember the look on his face when Remus had asked him to be Teddy's godfather, the happiness that shone in his eyes when he accepted. Rumor had it that year that he and his 2 best friends, Ron and Hermione, were out on a top-secret mission for the majority of that year, a mission which culminated into what many historians are calling the bloodiest wizarding conflict of the 20th Century. The Second War had passed, but with it, it carried a heavy toll, and the end of the war wasn't even the beginning.

With Bella being the 2nd in command of the Dark Lord's forces, she quickly filled up the power vacuum that the death of Voldemort created, taking over what was left of his armies and supporters. Unfortunately for Harry, a good number of those supporters were still in key positions in the Ministry, and knowing that they would most probably be out of a job and most probably in prison by the next day, they acted with swiftness and precision to ensure that revenge was served. And so it was that the very next day, in the middle of all the confusion, commotion, and celebration, the corrupted individuals arrested a weak and mourning Harry, sentenced him to life in Azkaban, Britian's wizarding prison, and shipped him off that very night without so much as a whisper. No one found out until the following day.

It took most of that day to fire the majority of the corrupt, and it was only through the filing of this paperwork did Nymphadora Tonks find the written orders for the arrest of Harry James Potter. Quickly as they could, she gathered as many Aurors that she could, explained the situation, and made all due haste to Azkaban to free her friend. However, when they arrived, they received the greatest shock of their lives.

The island was empty.

No guards, no prisoners, and most definitely no Harry Potter. Either Harry was moved to an undisclosed location, or Harry never made it to Azkaban to begin with. The follow-up investigation and manhunt for Harry Potter commenced immediately afterwards. For 5 years they searched, non-stop. Both in Britain, and on the continent. He was never found. Finally, after those 5 years, the Ministry finally declared him dead.

She was so caught up in her memories that she didn't notice her tears until she felt the 'pat-pat' of them dripping on her thigh, soaking right through the negligee and causing her to feel the cool moisture on her skin. Getting up, she headed into the kitchen for a bottle of Odgen's Finest. She felt she was going to need a stiff one tonight. Not that it would matter, she didn't do much now-a-days. Much to her surprise, Harry had left a third of the Black fortune and 12 Grimmauld Place to her late son Teddy. Since neither Ted, nor her husband survived, it all went to her, essentially ensuring that she never had to work a day in her life again.

She stopped that train of thought as she fought back a sob, opened the bottle of Odgen's and took a swing, not even bothering to grab a shot glass. Tonight, she intended to forget, and forget she would.

-

It was a quiet evening in cell-block T20 in the magical section of Alcatraz Prison. The majority of the inmates were asleep, while others went about their nightly business of exercise, reading, or trying to grasp at the grapevines for the latest news outside the slammer. There was one though, a young woman, who was absolutely still. Neither sleeping, nor reading, nor exercising, nor gossiping, she was doing something completely out of the norm – meditating.

Gladiators.

That was the one word that she could describe herself and her teammates as. In ancient Rome, Gladiators were slaves-turned-warriors, who fought in tournaments for the hundreds and thousands of spectators that would come to watch, all for the chance to earn their freedom. Well, she was a gladiator, her team was composed of gladiators, and they were about to fight in the grandest of all the modern tournaments.

The Unreal Tournament. Considered the most popular Underground Blood Sport of the 20th century, it is the only known tournament that brought muggles and wizards together in one, epic collision. In the mid-90's the American government started a co-project with it's wizarding counterparts to attempt to merge wizarding magic and muggle technology. After 2 years of intensive research, the results were dramatic. Not only were they able to make muggle devices run off of magic, but they were also able to enhance a device to do and perform things at a level never before heard of. This not only started a movement in the American military, but also in the everyday lives of American witches and wizards.

Of course, it didn't take long before the weapons aspect of this discovery was leaked out as well.

No one knows exactly who it was that started the Tournament, but what most DID know was that, over 10 years later, the tournament was the talk of the streets. Many of the 'organized' crooks in the US had a stake in the Tournament, be it small time bookies, to big time Kingpins. It was a Tournament that attracted 4 kinds of people, be they wizard or muggle:

The poor, looking for an opportunity for fame, glory, and money.

The rich, looking to spend money and catch an adrenaline fix.

The soldiers, looking for a piece of action in times when their country have no need of their service.

The criminals, from those who are locked up for more than 25 years all the way to the ones on Death Row.

She was a criminal. Called the Bombshell for her drop-dead beauty and fascination with explosives, she was the demolition expert of her team. That's another thing about this particular prison – no one knows your real name unless you want to give it. The only times that the identities of others were made public by the Tournament was either when someone somehow died in the Tournament, or somehow won the Tournament. There aren't many on that list, as of yet the Tournament is only a decade old, and yet the fatality list will always be 100 times longer than the winner's list. She knew that if it weren't for her teammates that she would be dead.

A 25 year old muggle lady of Hispanic origin, standing at 5'5, short and curvy brown hair and brown eyes, she was arrested for the cold blooded murder of her father, two uncles, and her grandfather using homemade explosives which she rigged in their rooms while they slept. Of course, the witnesses all 'conveniently forgot' to tell the police that said relatives were trying to take advantage of her in a "not-so-pleasant" manner. Having just turned 18 the previous month and getting sick and tired of being her families sexual toy, she acted in the best way she knew how – big booms. The state provided her with a lawyer, but even with proper representation, the courts still ruled in favor of the prosecutor and she wound up with 50 years of hell in a maximum security cell at Alcatraz Prison. Having heard of the tournament through the grapevine in the slam, she figured that since her life was more or less over and she had nothing left to lose, that she might as well try and fight her way to freedom.

That's when she met _them._ 3 people who, with her, banded together to form one of the most powerful teams in Tournament History.

Chikujin was a sniper of Japanese origin, 28 years old, 5'8 with long, dark red hair and blood-colored eyes who used to make his living as an assassin-for-hire, both in the wizarding AND muggle world. Having been caught trying to assassinate the powerhouse known as Lucius Malfoy and sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, he immediately opted out of it in favor of risking his life in the tournament. He is currently the teams 2nd in command.

Max Roswell was a yank. At 38 years old, 6'4, bald, beady black eyes, and at a massive 375 pounds of pure muscle, he was the "tank" of the group. He was a tactical specialist, a former Navy Seal who got a little to 'liberal' with his weapon and took out some friendly targets in Guam, he had entered the tournament for both a chance at freedom from military prison, as well as a chance to get in some action. He had been the teams 'mentor figure', and had imparted to them a lot of wisdom that came with age to those who were given second chances. Unfortunately, as is prone in these blood sports, he died last year when his respawner malfunctioned, leaving Chikujin with the position of Team Tactical Specialist and his firearms to the team leader. That was another thing she never understood: Max's obsession with firearms, an obsession that, it seems, passed on to the last member of the team, and the current subject of her musings.

The last member, and perhaps the most enigmatic of all the others. About 27 years old, black unruly hair, jade green eyes, and the cutest British accent she'd ever heard, he was a walking legend in the tournament. All she knew of him was that he came in with absolutely no name from a wizarding prison in Britain, and that he made his name and set his reputation in the Singles competition known as Deathmatch. For over two years he competed, and for those two years, he remained undefeated. He currently hold the longest killing spree ever recored in singles competition, and is coming close to matching that of Malcolm, the legendary leader of Team Thundercrash. Not only is he undefeated in singles though, he was never fragged, not once in the two years that he'd been competing, earning him the title Unfraggable. What made his legend so unbelievable, however, wasn't the fact that he was never fragged in singles, it was his weapon of choice during his singles competitions – Double Enforcers.

The Enforcer is a standard issue semi-automatic pistol. It had 2 modes, the first one allowing a continuous spray of fire, and the second allowed a small spurt of fire in a short amount of time. Each tournament participant starts off ALL their matches with one, standard issue. This man though, deemed it necessary to hunt down and kill his opponents before they had a chance to find alternative weapons to fight with, earning him their own Enforcer as well. With Double Enforcers, he established his reputation as invincible in Singles, and earned him the nickname The Enforcer. She'd never seen anyone with such a fan-base since Malcolm left the tournament to join the military.

She was interrupted from her musings when she heard the clank of her cell door being unlocked. She looked to the entrance as her favorite guard stood there, eying her before saying "It's time Bombshell, your next match is in an hour. Lets suit you up."

She smirked. "Mmmmm... show time..."

_And so that's that for now. Please keep in mind that this is only the intro. I'll be working on this a bit to polish it off as well as working on a few more chapters to see where this goes, I hope to have chapter 2 out either next week or the week after. Cheers guys and gals, till next time._


	2. Visitors and Offers

Chapter 2: Visitors and Offers

"I really need to quit drinking," mumbled Tonks as she sat down to her coffee, her head pounding with a blinding headache from the previous nights stupor. She had managed to finish off the bottle of Odgen's and managed to get a relatively dreamless 5 hours of sleep before the beginnings of another nightmare woke her up.

She was suffering from Post Traumatic War Syndrome, she knew it. She had resigned from the Auror Corps shortly after the Second War, and holed herself up at Grimmauld Place. While she was getting better emotionally as time went by, she was still slowly wasting away, and if it were not for what little fighting and exercise she got from fighting and doing Order business and her metamorphmagus abilities, she'd be in a lot worse shape than she was. She was dangerously thin, very little appetite for anything other than liquor, coffee, and chocolate ice-cream. She tried to force herself to eat more, but wound up vomiting whatever else she managed to shove down her unwilling throat. Over the last 3 years, she had started to get better, slowly moving on with her life. She started associating with her old co-workers again, and started going out a little more often, but still tended to spend a lot of time by herself.

Her nightmares were starting to get better, she had to admit. It had been 10 years since her family had been ripped from her. Remus and Teddy had been caught in the cross-fire while they were seeking shelter, blindsided by the storming Death Eaters on their way to the Great Hall. She remembered it almost vividly, Voldemort and his consorts approaching them, Hagrid having been forced to follow carrying the body of her friend Harry.

She heard the fire in her fireplace flare for a second before she heard a familiar voice. "Tonks?! Tonks you there?!"

She got up sluggishly, pulled her robes closer to her and went to see who it was. When she caught sight of her face, her eyes popped wide at the state that she was in and immediately responded. "Wotcher 'Mione, what happened?"

"The Manor was attacked. We managed to get away but we lost everything. We're at Hogwarts at the moment and... well... I was kinda wondering..."

Tonks gave her a sad smile. "Come on over Hermione, you know you and the family are welcome here whenever you want. The guest rooms are yours for as long as you want them."

"Thanks Tonks, we'll be right over," she said with a grateful, yet worn smile before her head disappeared. Tonks sighed. "Kreature!"

The house-elf Kreature popped up in front of her and bowed down. "Mistress Tonksy calls on Kreature?"

"Prepare the guest rooms, we're going to have guests staying over for a while. Don't know how long they're going to be staying, but safe to say, it'll be for the foreseeable future. Also, make sure that breakfast is ready in a bit, they'll probably be hungry."

"Yes Mistress, it will be done," he said before disappearing with a pop.

The fire flared once again as Hermione came over. "Sorry for the inconvenience Tonks, but the other properties aren't suitable yet to live in, lucky for us Winky managed to survive the Manor's destruction."

The fire flared behind her as her 8 year old son Franklin made it through, followed closely by her friend and love, Neville, who promptly stumbled but was able to catch himself before he toppled over. "At least I'm getting better at Flooing..." he grumbled.

"Wotcher Franky, Neville, have a seat guys, what happened?" asked Tonks, as she herself.

"Death Eaters," responded Neville, nursing his just-fixed ankle. "About 20 of them stormed the Manner. Dunno how they managed to get passed the wards so quickly, they must have had several Wards expert with them. Longbottom Manor is pretty well protected. I was notified of the wards failing and managed to send Winky off to Hogwarts and got 'Mione and Frank through the Floo to the Headmistress' Office before they broke in. I was barely able to get through the Floo myself before it went down."

"How long will it take to rebuild?" she asked.

"Not too long, fortunately. We have a copy of the Manor blueprints in the Longbottom vault at Gringotts, so reconstruction should be pretty quick, all things considering. We got Winky currently in an old plantation home in Scotland fixing it up since it's fallen into disrepair. It's been in our family for about 200 years and we never once used it. Honestly dunno why none of the former Heads never sold it, but I'm glad it's there," he said with a smile on his face. Hermione nodded before Frank tugged on the sleeve of her top. "Mommy, can I play on Aunties computer for a while?"

She looked to Tonks, who nodded. "Sure Franky, just remember to turn it off when you're done."

"YAY!" he cheered as he rushed off to the basement, which had been converted to a "Muggle Entertainment Room" for her own use. It was the only room in the manor that allowed muggle electronics to work without them becoming fried by the ambient magic of Black Manor.

"Well, go and get settled in, Kreature should be making breakfast right about now."

"Thanks Tonks, we really appreciate this," said Hermione, smiling gratefully.

"Not a problem. Now up you get," she said, grinning as she shooed them upstairs.

She went into the kitchen to sit down only to notice an eagle owl perched on the back of one of the chairs at the table.

'Odd, who could be writing to me? I don't recognize the owl,' she thought as she took the letter off of the owl's leg. The handwriting was familiar, but she still couldn't make out who it was. Finally, she opened it and started to read:

_Dear Cousin,_

_I know that I'm the last person in the world that you're expecting to hear from, but I'm in need of help, as is the rest of the wizarding world. If you're willing to listen, I have a proposition for you..._

-

'What a dump,' he thought as he walked into the visitors cubicle at Alcatraz Prison. He sat down on the chair, waiting for the inmate that he was visiting to come in on the other side of the window pane as he allowed himself to get lost in thought. Draco Malfoy had entered the Unreal Tournament the previous year and had dominated the European bracket. Having won 40 of his 50 Deathmatches, he had been given an invitation to join the International Singles Division for the Tournament which had taken place last month in Alaska at an undisclosed location. It was there that he was reunited with _him_.

From the research that he did as soon as he was annihilated, he found that his opponent was only known as the Enforcer, aptly named after the weapon that he seemed to favor. He was highly amused to find that he had earned the title Unfraggable in the American bracket, but was amazed to see that the title was well earned. He had not lost a singles match in over 3 years and held the longest ongoing Tournament Killing Spree record in Tournament history. He had known right then and there that he had to talk to him. He tried to find out why it was that he was imprisoned to begin with, but no one, not even his 'old associates' were able to provide answers. It took some deep digging in Ministry files to find out what had happened, and even then it took a lot of conjecturing to reach the point to where he was able to reason it out.

He was startled out of his thoughts as the door on the other side opened and a guard came in escorting the prisoner he was to see. He saw the guard escort tell him what his own escort had told him before leaving the two to talk - "You have 15 minutes."

They stared at each other for about 10 seconds, gray eyes meeting jade eyes, narrow, calculating, before he took a seat and picked up the phone on the wall, getting ready for what promised to be an interesting 15 minutes. Draco picked up his own phone and started. "Well well well, of all the places I imagined to find you, THIS was the last place on the planet I'd expect to see you in."

He smirked at Draco, making him shiver. The look he was receiving was one a predator gave it's prey before going in for the kill. "There are a lot of things that can happen in 10 years Malfoy. Not all of us stay the same with the flow of time."

"Indeed," he replied, before getting down to business. "I imagine you recognized me from last month?"

"Yeah, you were the newbie that was invited to the ISD. My first opponent if I recall," he said. "You didn't do half bad, and I expect you'd had made it further if you were lucky enough to had wound up with a different opponent to start the division with. Though I have to admit... it IS odd to see you consorting with muggles," he said, his smirk turning into a grin.

"Pffft, please, I got over my blood purity issues a while back. Bad for business, you know, being a bigoted pig."

"I see... so you just all of a sudden decided to join an underground blood sport because it would be 'good for business'?" he responded, enjoying the annoyed look on Draco's face.

"Now I remember why I never liked you as kids..." he responded with a smirk of his own.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I never swung that way myself. I'll take that as a compliment though."

"Oy!"

The enigma known as the Enforcer cackled before saying "Relax Malfoy, I'm just pulling the mickey out of ya. So seriously, why come half way across the world just to see little old me? I doubt I can be of any help to ya stuck in here, much less be a 'profitable partner' in whatever you're scheming."

Draco sobered up at this, remembering what he came in here for. "You can actually. I'm here on behalf of the Unspeakables over at the Ministry. The reason I entered the tournament is to look for potential help back home. Things are bad, probably worse than they were before the Dark Lord was killed."

Enforcer just looked at him before a chuckle developed. The chuckle soon turned into full blown-out laughter. He scowled as Enforcer tried to regain his composure and picked up the phone that he dropped in his fit. "Are you bloody well kidding me?! You think after everything that I've been through that I'd even step a foot into England again, much less your wizarding World?! Give me ONE good reason that I should help you Malfoy, seriously, and it had better be a good one, otherwise you're just wasting my time."

"Bellatrix Lestrange", he replied. That shut him up. Enforcer looked at him now with a sceptical look in his eyes.

"Lestrange? Didn't she die at Hogwarts?"

"Nope", he replied. "She managed to escape, using the death of your former lady love and your duel with the Dark Lord as cover to get lost in the chaos.

He cursed, flexing his hand into a fist, trying to relieve some of the tension that this bit of news. "What about Lestrange?"

"She took the Dark Lord's place. She's in command of what was left of his army and has been expanding into the mainland. The bitch is a certified psycho, and is a lot more direct in her attacks, and a lot more brutal in her tactics. She's waging a full, blown-out war against wizarding Britain, and the intensity of the war is coming to the point where even the muggles are starting to notice us. I'd say in about 3 months, we'll be fully exposed and if the attacks continue as they are, we may be fighting a war on 3 fronts instead of 2."

He leaned back before continuing. "You were never supposed to be here Enforcer. From what we can figure in the DoM, your incarceration was a last ditch effort at revenge from the Death Eaters before they were cleaned out of the Ministry. Things were messed up for the first year, and it's taken over 5 years to correct most of the mayhem that has taken place. You were lucky I managed to find you when I did, you've been declared dead for the past 5 year. There was a massive man-hunt for you all over Britain before we gave you up for dead 5 years ago."

Enforcer cursed again. "Shit Malfoy, you don't kid around when you drop bombs, do you?" he said in a sarcastic tone before he started to think. "What do you need from me? What kind of help are you looking for in the Tournament?"

"Originally I was thinking about buying off some of the lower bracket teams and a bunch of weapons and respawners and taking the fight to the Death Eaters, but I first needed to scout out potential teams that might be willing to partake in the action. Then I found you and thought it would be the perfect shot. You'd be able to choose and lead the teams better than I'd ever be able to. From what I can tell you have quite the reputation here, as well as the respect of the other teams that comes with it."

Enforcer smirked at the compliment. "Sounds tempting," he said. "What would I get out of it?"

"A championship shot, which would earn your freedom from this dump," replied the Head of the Malfoy clan. "After that, you'd be able to choose what teams you want and I'll buy them off, pulling whatever strings I'd have to to ensure their participation in the war. You'd get your own headquarters, protected by the Fidelius charm with myself as Secret Keeper. You'd get an arsenal of Unreal weaponry and respawners to fight with, and your own rights as a wizard reinstated."

He sat back, thinking on Draco's offer, and took a good 5 minutes before he said "I want this same offer to be extended to my teammates."

"I dunno if I can do that will be -" "It WILL be, or else you get no deal."

Draco looked at him incredulously. "You'd doom the wizarding World for a couple of people?"

Enforcer's smirk curled up even more. "You bet your arse I would. Bombshell, Chikujin and I have been through more shite in the last 2 years as a team than my previous friends did 10 years ago. You KNOW what the Tournament is like Malfoy. You know the kind of shite that goes on down in the Pits, the chances of death, the brutality that we go through every match. Do you REALLY think my former friends would be able to last a day in the Pit without me there to hold their hands?"

Draco didn't have to ponder long on this before he caved in. "Fine, you and your teammates will get the championship shot, and they'll have earned their wizarding rights as well. Are they wizards?"

"One of them, the other grew up a muggle, though I've taught her how to tap into her own core."

He raised an eye brow at that. Enforcer grinned at him. "Anyone can tap into their core Malfoy, wizard OR muggle. You honestly think that adrenaline alone is what makes humans do extraordinary things in extraordinary circumstances?"

"Point taken. So THAT's your little secret then? How you managed to..."

"Yup. That's all it takes. Anyone can do it, I'm just the first to use it in it's... more practical benefit."

"Any chance you'd be able to teach me to do that?" asked Draco with a grin.

"What, and risk you trying to usurp my killing spree?"

"Afraid of competition are you?"

Enforcer was about to respond when his door opened and the armed escort came in. "Times up Enforcer. Time to hit the lockers, you and your team got a Capture the Flag match in an hour."

Enforcer looked at him pointedly. Draco sighed and said "Fine, your entire team, including the muggle. Expect to be out of here by the end of the month."

Enforcer smirked. "See you on the other side then Malfoy." He hung up the phone and got up, thanked the guard and went on his way.

Malfoy lingered for a few seconds, his own armed escort waiting on him.

"Till next time... Potter," he whispered to himself, and in a sweep of his cloak, he exited the cubicle. 5 minutes later, he portkeyed back to Malfoy Manor to start the paperwork for what he hoped would be the turning point of the Third War.

_I realize that Malfoy is a bit out of character. This is intentional, and will be explained later on in the story. That's it for that, again, expect the next one to be out in a couple of weeks. Still looking for a Beta reader! Feel free to contact me if interested._


	3. Under Enemy Fire

Chapter 3: Under Enemy Fire

They were under heavy enemy fire. She watched as over 30 Death Eaters stormed Longbottom Manor. They watched as Neville fought with the furor of a lion while his wife and son struggled to activate their emergency portkey to Hogwarts. She watched as, finally, they managed to get a hold of the necklace on display over the fireplace – the false locket that had once belonged to their friend and comrade. She watched as Hermione grabbed her husband's shirt from behind and said the activation phrase and disappeared in a flash of blue light as the memory ended. Tonks sighed and pulled herself out of the Penseive and nearly lost her balance as she reappeared before Hermione and Neville who were sitting down on the couch in the living room. Catching herself at the last second and re-stabalizing herself, she said "Well, there's not much that I can say other than well done. You were out-gunned and out-matched and did the only sensible thing that you could."

"Did you manage to recognize anyone?" asked Hermione, anxious from the waiting.

"Can't say I did," replied Tonks, wearily sitting down next to Hermione. "The only thing that really stands out that I can think of is their numbers. Usually Death Eaters only do raids of that kind with about 5 or 6 to a group, but there were well over 30 Death Eaters in that raid. I imagine that they either wanted you captured or killed rather badly, otherwise they'd have sent less."

"Was she there?" asked Neville, and she immediately understood who he was talking about.

"No, not as far as I can tell. So far she's been involving herself less and less. Quite frankly it's got me nervous, it's indication to me that she's planning something big. I'd keep my eyes and ears open for any strange going-ons or rumors. Lestrange isn't the type of witch who'd just sit back and let the lackeys have all the fun," said Tonks, her years on the force coming up remarkably fast.

"What will we do in the meantime?" asked Hermione.

"Well..." started Tonks, before stopping to consider her words. _'Should I tell them about the letter? He DID say to try and bring in people I trusted...'_ Deciding carefully, she said "There might be something that we can do in the future to better the war effort and make sure that this kind of thing doesn't happen again, but I need a bit more time to think on it."

"Why, do you have a plan of some kind?" inquired Neville, always eager to do his part in trying to finish off the witch that drove his parents insane.

"Not so much of a plan as an invitation," she responded. "I received a letter a little over an hour ago, and I'm still giving it some thought. I really don't want to say much more until I come to a decision, but it essentially involves us teaming up with an outside faction and some an old ally from the Second War to take the fight to the Death Eaters."

There was a pensive silence for a few seconds before Hermione responded. "So this faction is going to be like the old Order of the Phoenix then?"

"Not really Hermione. Back in the Second War the Order really didn't do too much fighting. Yes, we had fighters that joined us, but we were mostly an intelligence unit, gathering what information we could and using it to the best of our abilities. That sometimes meant fighting, but most of the time it meant 'preventive maintenance' if you will," explained Tonks. "From what I can gather, this group is going to be a bit more direct. From what I've read from the letter I received, the members of this group are either mercenaries, or ex-convicts from a blood sport called the Unreal Tournament."

"Oh WOW, I didn't know you were into the Tournament Auntie!" exclaimed a voice from behind. The adults jumped as they stared at Hermione's and Neville's 8 year old son.

"What do you know of that Franky?" asked a very skeptical Hermione.

"I've followed the Tournament for about a year now. The Underground Association sends out newsletters through the Internet and has blogs and forums dedicated to the Tournament. As far as I can tell, there are rumors going about that they'll be scheduling a Championship gauntlet for the top 5 teams, I can't WAIT for that to happen, especially since it's going to be coming 3 years ahead of time too!"

"And why's that young Franky? And how did you even come across this Tournament to begin with?" asked Tonks with a chuckle and a grin, clearly tickled at the fact that an 8 year old knew more about this supposed blood sport than she did.

"The Championships are the only matches that they do live feed. The rest is just audio feedback from the commentators on a pirated channel every now and again, and of course there's Podcasts of the Tournament that I download as well. Since the Tournament isn't officially sanctioned considering it's the bloodiest of the blood sports since the Gladiator's of Ancient Rome it's very hard to get any kind of live coverage for the internet users, so they usually save those for the Championship rounds."

"That's barbaric!" exclaimed Hermione. "Gladiators, as in fights to the death!?"

"Oh it's more than just that mum," said Frank, obviously excited about being able to talk about one of his favorite pass times. "Yeah, they have the Deathmatches, but it's a bit more military in nature in it's competition and bracket format. They also got Capture the Flag and Domination as well, so there's variety to the fighting." He paused a moment, considering his next words carefully. "There's also different divisions and events that use the Tournament theme as well with different divisions with different prizes."

"That would explain the letter then," mumbled Tonks, deep in thought.

"What letter?" asked Hermione.

Tonks looked at her, considering her options before shrugging and taking the folded letter out of her jean pockets, she handed it over to Hermione, who began to read it skeptically while shooing Franklin back into the entertainment room.

_Dear Cousin,_

_I know that I'm the last person in the world that you're expecting to hear from, but I'm in need of help, as is the rest of the wizarding world. If you're willing to listen, I have a proposition for you, one that might very well end the war for good. I've been underground for a little over a year now on assignment for the Department of Mysteries, participating in a very special tournament called the Unreal Tournament. This Tournament uses a special brand of magic called Technocrocy, the art of integration between muggle technology and wizarding magic. The Tournament uses weapons created through Technocrocy as well as other safeguard devices to make a sort of underground blood sport._

_But enough of the technicalities, the reason I'm writing you is because of a certain competitor that I met while participating in a International Tournament division in Canada. This competitor is currently an in-mate at a high-security prison, and knows the intricacies of the Tournament even better than I do. By the time this letter reaches you, I'll be on my way to Alcatraz prison over in the States to attempt negotiations with him. If I am successful, I'll have been able to buy some of the top notch teams in the Tournament as well as some of the weapons and safeguard devices that they use. With this, we'll be able to achieve a new level of firepower in the battlefield and, maybe, even the odds against us._

_The reason I'm telling you all of this is because you're one of the few left that I know who has actual combat experience with a certain knowledge of the muggle world. I need people such as yourself if we are to be successful in our endeavors, and would like to extend to you and anyone you deem trustworthy the chance to join this new team. Should you agree, send your reply via my owl Athena to me and we'll make arrangements to meet up and discuss this opportunity in greater detail._

_Awaiting your reply,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Hermione finished reading the letter in disbelief. "Malfoy has been in the muggle world for the last YEAR!?"

"According to this letter, yes. Apparently Draco is an Unspeakable and has gone underground looking for help. I'm actually considering going for this, since nothing else seems to be working against that psychopath Lestrange. You two interested?" asked Tonks.

Hermione looked at Tonks critically for a few moments. "I thought you quit being an Auror because you didn't want to fight anymore?"

"No, I quit being an Auror because I was grieving the loss of my husband and son, was feeling miserable about myself, and was getting sick and tired with the way the war was being handled. Harry's disappearance didn't help matters much either I guess," she said with a sad smile as she stared into the fire once more. "I've been getting better, time has been numbing the pain of loss for a while. I think... I think I'm ready to fight again. I'd certainly like the opportunity to avenge them... all of them..."

Hermione nodded in understanding, knowing where she was coming from. She herself was still hurting from Harry's disappearance too. She remembered going into a deep depression after he was declared dead. If it wasn't for Neville being there for her, she didn't know where she would have wound up.

"I always did wonder what would have happened if Harry was still here..." she commented, her eyes glazed over in reminiscence. "So much was lost we Voldemort fell..."

"The price was much too high," agreed Tonks.

There was a silence before Neville shot up from his seat, startling them out of their thoughts. "Well, I dunno about you, but I think I'd like to join Malfoy in this endeavor of his. He's right, this would be something different, and if it makes a difference in this war, then all the better!"

Hermione smiled at her husbands enthusiasm. "Yes... yes, I think I'd like to as well. If anything, I can do research or something."

Tonks considered their answers. "Very well, I'll send off our response to Draco then."

-

They were under heavy enemy fire. Pinned behind a crumbling section of wall on the roof of the northeastern section of the warded-off city block, he tried to find exactly who had Bombshell and Enforcer pinned down. Chikujin was getting nervous, despite the odds being in their favor. Then again, being a sniper, anytime when he was visually impaired was a bad time for him. "I can't get a visual on the target, they're more than likely firing from the Northwestern section, probably from behind the building structure hoping that it would cover them from my sniper fire," he said into his ear piece. There was a moment of silence before another male voice crackled to life.

"Copy that, I got a visual on the targets. I'm going in, try to give me as much cover fire as you can."

"Roger that."

Back on the ground, Enforcer and Bombshell were hiding behind an upturned car. They winced as a rocket went off next to them. "They're trying to fish us out," she said.

He grinned at her words. "That's exactly what we're hoping that they do. They're desperate, they know that they're going to loose this match if the flags get reset. No worries, we've got this. Just make sure that you don't loose that flag and we've got this."

They were currently participating in a Capture the Flag match. The objective of this match was to capture the enemies flag and take it back to your base. To cap the flag, your own flag must be in place in the base, else you'll be unable to cap it. Currently, both teams had the enemies flag, the score was in Team Fallen's favor at 7-0. One more cap and they'd win the match. Currently, Bombshell held the Blue Flag, the color of their opposing team, Team Gallows. Their own color was black.

"How do you propose that?! They've been launching rockets at us for the past minute if you haven't noticed!" she screeched.

"Have you already forgotten what I've taught you?" asked Enforcer, looking at her dead in the eyes, amusement clearly written all over his face.

She blushed at that. Indeed, she HAD forgotten her own capabilities there for a minute. "Sorry mi amor, I guess I don't exactly think too well under pressure."

"No pressure love, lets just get this over with." He signaled to Chikujin to give them cover fire as soon as they started to charge their targets while Bombshell closed her eyes and concentrated on the lessons that Enforcer had given her over the course of her Tournament years.

_'All creatures have a magical core. While non-magical people might not be able to readily access this core, ALL creatures can at least touch on it when faced with stressful situations. Mixed with our adrenaline, it is how us humans are capable of doing extraordinary things in extraordinary circumstances._

_'Breath slowly. In... out... in... out... feel your breath enter your lungs, feel the air fill you with life. Feel the rush of blood flow through your veins as the air of life rushes through it, towards your core. Let the air of life touch you there, charging you with energy. Feel the release of the adrenaline in your veins...'_

She opened her eyes, now glowing a soft blue within her irises. She felt her environment slow down to a crawl as her perception of what was going on around her sped up to incredible proportions. She felt her body stiffen in preparation for the task at hand, her muscles unconsciously tensing. She knew now that no projectile, be it bullet, energy, nor explosive would be able to touch her.

"On three Bombshell..." said Enforcer, entering into his own enhanced state in the blink of an eye. She switched from her own Rocket Launcher to her Flank Cannon and got ready to shred some idiots apart. "One... two... WAAAAAAAAAAAR!!"

He shouted his battle cry as he charged forward, Shock Riffle in hand. She followed and immediately noticed the distortions in the air as a wave of bullets and rockets came surging at them from the enemies Mini-Gun and Rocket Launcher. She saw Enforcer dive under a wave of bullets, roll, and jump over an incoming rocket. She herself had to roll out of the way of bullets.

She wasn't so lucky with the incoming rocket, however. Cursing at the new-ness of her enhanced perception, she had miscalculated the amount of time she had before the rocket impacted her.

'Damnit, this is gonna-" was her last thought before the explosion ripped her to pieces. She knew blinding pain for what seemed like an eternity, but was more like 5 seconds before the respawner respawned her in the southeastern section of the city, in Team Fallen's base.

"Fucking hijo de la puta gorda!!" she cursed as she rushed off, hoping it wasn't too late to attempt to make a cap, grabbing a Link Gun along the way.

Meanwhile, Enforcer cursed his bad luck as Bombshell was blown to bits by a rocket. He quickly dove to where she had been prior to blowing up and grabbed the Blue flag that she had dropped before talking into the com. "Bombshell what the hell happened there!?"

"I miscalculated the time it took the rocket to reach me," he heard her answer. "I'm making my way back to you."

"Negative," replied Enforcer as he rushed forward once again, knowing that standing still for too long would also get him fragged and effectively end his killing spree, a change that would be most unwelcome to him. "Stay and defend the base, I'll get em."

He quickly swapped weapons using the weapon interface in his suits gauntlet, swapping his Shock Riffle for his Double Enforcers. 'No holding back...'

He consentrated on his state of perception and willed himself to go even deeper into it as he felt the adrenaline course through him. He started to charge them, running faster and faster, dodging enemy fire as it came until he could see where they were hiding – they were hidden behind a broken off traffic baricade which had somehow wound up propped against the west side of the Northwestern building. There were two of them – the guy with the Rocket Launcher was on the left, and the guy with the Mini-Gun was on the right. The right guy was in possession of their flag. So, he did the only thing that he could do to ensure that they gave him what he wanted.

He _jumped._

He leaped forward in a rush of adrenaline, and faster than the other two could see, he fired. The Double Enforcer was his specialty for a reason – the fast and accurate splurt of fire that could be had with them were dangerous in close-range combat. They were both fragged within seconds of him rolling behind them. Not missing a beat, he snagged his teams flag, watching as it was transported back to their base and started his run back.

"Chikujin! Where's my-" he was cut off when he heard a shot whiz by his head and heard the unmistakable and sickening sound of heads exploding in a shower of blood, bone, and gore as the arena vibrated with the word **"HEADSHOT!!"** and **"DOUBLE KILL!!"**

"You were saying?" asked an amused Chikujin over the com.

"Never mind..." mumbled Enforcer as he finally reached their base. He passed by Bombshell's gob-smacked face and winked at her before leaping onto the platform that held their flat and held the enemy flag onto their own and watched it disappear.

"**GAME!!"** vibrated the robotic voice over the stadium. **"WINNER – TEAM FALLEN!!"**

He felt the tug behind his navel as the gauntlet that he was wearing transported him and his team back to their locker room in Alcatraz prison.

"Nice victory ladies," said Enforcer as he grabbed a nearby towel off the towel rack and sat down on a bench wiping the sweat and blood off his face and neck. "De-brief time! We did great, but got a bit sloppy towards the end. Bombshell, what happened out there? You should have been able to dodge that rocket."

She looked a bit down as she grabbed her own towel and slumped down on the opposite bench. "I've been... distracted lately. Don't know why, but I've had a lot on my mind, considering it's starting to get close to... well, _that_ time of the year."

Enforcer nodded, as if he'd been expecting it. The same thing happened to her last year, her performance dropping slightly whenever it came close to the anniversary of her imprisonment. Not enough to affect their winning spree, but just enough to blemish her Frag record. 'I guess we all suffer in silence at one point or another...'

"Understandable... from what we can tell, you didn't exactly wind up in here under the best of circumstances," said Enforcer.

"I think I'm sensing a 'but' in there..." she said slowly.

"Indeed you are," offered Enforcer with a smile. "Remember those meditation techniques that I taught you when I showed the two of you how to enter into your Enhanced Perception states?"

She and Chikujin both nodded their heads, remembering that particularly hellish 6 months of constant meditation, as well as all the philosophical and psychological crap that Enforcer kept spewing about the human mind and body.

"Well, that same meditation technique can be used to control emotions," he continued. "I myself wound up finding this out the painful way during my first year here," he said. "So, why don't you try this Bombshell, why don't you attempt to use your meditation time to not only practice slipping into your Perception state, but to also gain control of your thoughts, your emotions, and your actions." she groaned in protest, having been the one out of the pair that hated meditating the most. "Not only will you be able to gain control of your little problem, but you'll also notice some more subtle changes in your everyday life should you keep up the practice. You'll be less temperamental, you're thought process will become clearer, more effective, you're memory will better itself..."

"Will it affect her core though?" asked Chikujin. "It sounds to me like you're suggesting that she take up Occlumency, do you think that it'll work for her like it does for us?"

Enforcer was about to answer when a knock on the door leading into the locker room was heard. A moment later, it opened to reveal a man in his late 40's, wearing what looked like a VERY expensive suit. "Team Fallen?" he asked.

"That's us, what of it?" asked Enforcer, getting up from his bench as Bombshell got up to finish toweling off before hitting the showers. Chikujin remained seated.

"My name is John Adams, I'm one of the coordinators of the Tournament. My responsibility lies in the planning and organization of the different special events that take place within the Tournament," he said, his eyes lingering on Bombshell's form just a _little_ bit longer than necessary.

"Okay, and this has to do... what, exactly, with us?" asked Enforcer, sounding rather bored with the man already. He really hated messengers that took too long spitting out what they had to say.

"Well, first off, I wanted to congratulate you guys on your splendid victory out there today. I don't think I've ever ran into any Tournament participants who seem to be quite as... untouchable as you and your group."

"Gee, thanks," replied Enforcer. "Look, I'm covered in sweat and blood and would like to take a shower before going back to Solitary, so if you'll please get to the point?"

"Right right. To the point – I'm currently in the process of planning out this year's Championship Gauntlet-"

"Whoa, hold it, a _Championship Gauntlet_? The same Gauntlet that only takes place once every 10 years? The SAME Gauntlet that just took place 5 years ago?" asked Chikujin, now just joining into the conversation.

"Indeed. Due to... shall we say, _interested parties_, we are getting the Gauntlet under way a bit early."

"Interested..." started Enforcer, but stopped as the full implications of what John was trying to say hit him. '... but that would mean... well, hot damn. You're better than I thought, Malfoy...' he thought with a smirk. Out loud, he said "Okay, so considering this is true, you still haven't said what this has to do with us."

John grinned, and held out his hand. "Congratulations Mr. Enforcer. You and you're team mates are one of 5 teams that have been selected to participate in this years Gauntlet."

The team froze. Chikujin raised an eyebrow in surprise while Bombshell gawked at the Tournament coordinator. Enforcer just smirked.

"This... this means..." Bombshell stammered. "... libertad..."

"Indeed, Ms. Bombshell. Should your team win, you'll have earned your freedom and rights as a citizen of your respective countries and worlds."

Enforcer's smirk grew into a full blown grin as he shook hands with John. "Thanks you Mr. Adams. You have no idea how much this opportunity means to my team."

"Believe me Mr. Enforcer, you've more than earned it. I'm sure you'd have been selected as well in 5 years time should the Gauntlet had been held as scheduled," replied John with a grin of his own. "Anyway, as the coordinator, it is my duty to inform you of your participation in person. I ask that you and your team be ready in 1 week's time, which is when the Gauntlet will take place."

"We'll be ready and waiting," said Enforcer, eagerly awaiting the end of the Gauntlet so he and his team could get out of this hellhole. 'It would be nice to have some human contact again...'

"Well, that being done, I still have 2 more teams to notify. If you'll excuse me," and with that, he left.

The team was in silence for what seemed like hours. They certainly didn't expect _this _bit of news.

_Author's Notes: This one took a tad bit longer, as there were several things I wanted to clean up. This one is also my longest chapter yet, reaching a little over 4k words. For some reason, I'm still not satisfied with this chapter, so expect some revisions to it in the near future. I'll try to get Chapter 4 out within the next couple of weeks. Cheers!_


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